Indispensable
by virtualailee
Summary: Commander Rogers rebuilds the Avengers team, and tries to convince his old friend, Tony Stark to stay. Let bygone be bygone, he says. And Tony thought he's the one who has lost his memory. [Referencing the same scene from Bendis' Avengers (2010)]
1. Chapter 1

A new era begins. Bonds that were broken, reforged. Trust, rekindled. Past sins, forgiven.

The New Avengers congregate in the boardroom around the long, rectangular table parked in the middle of the space. Summer morning streams through the lightwell, as friendly chatter subside when Steve Rogers take his place at the head of the table. Everyone assembles at the unspoken call, staid and quickly, save for Tony Stark – owner of the joint, and the only unsmiling person around. He hangs back by the door, and watches other superheroes file forward to eventually block his line of sight of Steve at the front. No matter, he already knows what Steve is about to say in the next five minutes.

He stands his ground, until that blonde head peeks out, obviously in search of someone. Something inside Tony burns and he smiles wanly when Steve locks eyes with him, all the way from across the room. Steve doesn't call his name.

But, Tony heeds it all the same.

The spot directly on Steve's right is left suspiciously vacant on purpose. Tony can't… he hasn't earned his place.

In hindsight, he should've brought his helmet along.

"All right, Avengers." Steve braces the corners of the table and draws himself to full height. Regal and commanding in his stead, Tony chuckles under his breath, and keeps his chin up to pay attention to the words of his Commander. The lump in his throat hasn't gone away, but this? He's been looking forward to _this_.

"You will be the face of a new era. And I will tell you why I picked you. For your nobility and strength." For what is worth, Thor stands as proudly as he ever was, flawless, and not a single mar on his Asgardian armour. He doesn't look upon Tony as kindly as Steve does, but a warmish depth in his keen eyes settle upon Tony regardless.

And Tony can't bear the weight of the look. He averts his gaze, and good thinking, too – there's a small tear in Steve's boot that requires mending. He can fix that in a jiffy. A little dollop of experimental putty would do the trick. Nasty thing can hold up pretty well under high pressure and temperature, and it's waterproof…

Tony feels a chill settling on his nape and looks up again. Steve has been watching him curiously.

"And a clear view of the future."

OK, he's done with the bullshit. This is _insane_ – and _he's_ the one who's erased his brain!

"Steve, can I talk to you for a second?"

There's never a worse timing to initiate a one-on-one facetime with Captain America. The inside of his suit feels warmer than usual, colours probably rising to his cheeks as _every single head_ in the vicinity turn to him. Tony Stark, the party pooper. His tale will be told for decades!

A crystal glass chimes as Jarvis knocks his teaspoon against its side. "Ladies and gentlemen, food has been served."

Tony would've kissed Jarvis there and then. Chatter volume rises, and tension eases as people go where the promised food is, with Logan sniffing and leading the way. Tony stays where he is, and Steve waits with him, exuding the same quality of patience an old friend would afford, that reminds him of how lucky and equally undeserving he is of this.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks softly, despite the absence of other Avengers.

"I don't have to be on your team here."

"Of course you don't have to. But it's the Avengers! I thought you'd _want_ to."

"… I'm talking about you and me."

Steve's shoulders sag somewhat. "I know."

"We don't agree on just about anything anymore."

"That's _not_ entirely true."

"See? We don't even agree about that."

Someone knocks on the door, so Tony holds his tongue and breaks his gaze. He's made a promise to _not_ screw this up further for either of them. And that means not making this more difficult to process than it already is. He knows this has kept Steve up at night. He saw Steve paying tribute to the Avengers portrait in the foyer one night, just staring at it in silence. It was three in the morning.

"Sirs," Jarvis addresses them as he pushes the door wider. "The guests are wondering about your whereabouts. You should be out there in their company." His grey eyes wander to Tony's. "Mingle."

A flicker of movement tells Tony Steve is about to grab him by the elbow – like old times – and steer him out of the door. But, the suit doesn't register any pressure, and he notes that Steve has kept both hands firmly by his sides.

Steve can't even bear to touch him.

They exit the boardroom, shoulder to shoulder, and Tony wishes somebody would put a bullet to his head as he emerges. Or run a set of adamantium claws cleanly through his torso, or shoot laser beams up his ass – any of those is better than having to face the heat of some twenty pairs of eyes on him.

Steve waves at everyone and gestures for them to continue stuffing their face with cakes.

"When I look at you…" Tony _really_ wishes he can jam his scowling helmet over his head. Any moment now. "All I see are the mistakes, and all the –"

"Tony –"

"I'm not saying it's going to be that way forever. I can do something else."

"I want you on this team. This is your house!"

"… We'll kill each other." Again, is implied.

"No, we'll be fine." And Steve can keep telling himself that. Didn't work last time _he_ tried. "I'm not running the team."

 _That,_ shocked Tony enough that the lump in throat magically vanishes. "You're _not_?"

"I have an entire country to worry about."

"Who's going to run the team?"

Steve's smile grows wider. "Best person for the job."

"… Me?"

Steve laughs a little louder. "No. Ha, no." He points his thumb at the buffet spread. " _Her._ "

How he missed her in the group is a mystery. He must've taken his grieving too far… but it _has_ been a while since they last saw each other. Tony is certainly digging her new haircut. "Maria Hill, reporting for duty." At least she's not staring daggers at him anymore, for reasons she – and Pepper – have yet to clarify.

"I'm _very_ OK with that."

"And as far as you and me are concerned…" Steve lifts his right arm – palm open – a disarming smile tugging on his lips. Gloved fingers curl into a fist, and Tony freezes. His body remembers, somehow. "Let's just try not to kill each other." Steve fist bumps his chest plate, applying the barest pressure that the suit registers and conveys to his body within the titanium gold case.

A nudge right over his heart.

"We'll be fine," Steve repeats. Tony thinks he's beginning to believe in it, too.


	2. Chapter 2

When _Kang_ materialises to the right of the turkey carving and the fruit punch on the majestic buffet spread Jarvis has so painstakingly put together for the New Avengers, Tony summons his helmet so fast it wraps around his head just in time for Steve to call him to watch his language when the communication line comes online.

"Seriously, Steve! Is it too much to ask? Just one lousy Saturday –"

Good news is, Thor is in the house this afternoon, so all it takes to blast Kang through the northeast wall and plunge headfirst through three adjacent skyscrapers is a strike of his thunder. Bad news is, Tony just promised his neighbours that he'll make sure supervillains don't go smashing around their buildings for kicks and giggles, and Kang clearly just did. His fault.

"Yeah, I gotta tell ya, Kang…" They locate Kang lying amidst some expensive rubbles, and Tony stabilises his suit to hover. "You should go back to the future and look up online just how badly you timed _this_ bit of business, because –"

"I know _exactly_ what time it is." Kang lifts a battered hand, a sly grin etched on his pretty face as he waves around a nondescript, metal egg that he's clutching, and Tony feels the bottom of his stomach drop. The Avengers are quickly congregating around him, and he has just enough presence of mind to wave everyone to stay clear.

"Everyone back!" he screams. "Back down! _Back down_!"

"What's the fuss?" Peter Parker quips, having just landed neatly behind Tony. "It could be silly putty. _Evil_ silly putty, from the future."

"This isn't a joke. Where did you get that?" Tony pushes Peter back forcefully as the idiot tries to get closer to take a better look. "Where did you get it, Kang!"

"There is not a weapon in all of time that I cannot get my hands on. You know that. It's part of my charm."

"But I haven't even built that yet!"

"You will."

"I won't!"

Kang's cheeks pinch with glee. " _You did_."

He's bare and naked despite the scowling helmet of Iron Man he's hiding behind. More Avengers join their ranks, and Tony's heart races that it hurts, knowing that _Steve_ himself has gotten off his SHIELD air scooter and is within earshot. Thor creeps closer to his side, and asks the inevitable. "What _is_ it?"

"… It's – it doesn't matter. He has the upper hand."

"Tell them what it is," Kang threatens. "Or _I_ will."

Footsteps, steady and sure come to a halt right behind him. Tony doesn't have to turn to know who it is. "… It's a doomsday device."

So many questions, so many comments – of mockery and incredulity – are thrown his way so callously, yet Steve's silence is the most resounding. Tony does not falter because it isn't his right. He's made his bed. "It's a dark matter accelerator. If Kang wants it to, it will turn us all inside out. Or the entire city. I didn't build it," he adds hastily, as if mere words can earn him last minute brownie points. "I thought of it and I wrote it down. _I_ _haven't built it_! I promised myself I never would!" And his neck whips towards Steve so hard he might've busted a screw.

Steve isn't even looking at him. "What do you want, Kang?"

Kang strikes a deal with the Avengers, as Tony watches the egg-shaped device returned to the crevice of Kang's utility belt. The details wash past him like suds on waxy leaves, only the rush of blood pounding in his ears. Something about needing a time traveling device to stop their _children_ from the future from tearing the planet apart. Their success will be rewarded by Kang promising never again to cause them pain and suffering, that the Avengers will earn his goodwill and alliance. Failure, will be met with the activation of the doomsday device.

Kang whisks away after all is said and done, and Tony finds it hard to breathe properly in his suit. He takes his faceplate off, and doesn't trust his stomach to hold in his breakfast.

Steve addresses him directly for the first time. "What would you need to build a time machine?" Curt. Cold. Tony looks up at him, and finds not the vaguest shred of recognition, or emotion. Just a distant, clinical professionalism of getting things done.

"I'd need Victor von Doom. But seeing as he cannot be trusted, I need someone to – I need –"

"Reed Richards."

"Already called, and he ain't home. I'd need advanced knowledge of not only time but interdimensional travel that would not damage the construct of this reality, or –"

"Maria," Steve interjects. "Hit the list. See who we've got"

"… Sure. That shouldn't be too hard."

A muscle in Steve's cheek tick. "Check the Osborn files, too."

Steve Rogers may not be in charge of the Avengers, but he sure is still calling the shots. Nothing wrong with that, and it's what sets Tony heart to swell with pride. He's missed Steve's battle cry. As the crowd disperse to begin whittling away their to-do list – there's a planet to save after all! – Tony keeps his figurative crosshair on Steve.

He has to convince Steve, let him know that he's turned over a new! He's different. Changed.

"Steve, wait."

Steve's has already started making his way for the hole in the wall where his air scooter is parked, and Tony follows. The afternoon breeze is punishing in his face, and he steps closer to Steve. He needs to let Steve know –

He crumples to the ground and empties his stomach onto the floor. He's shaking inside his suit, he's cold that his fingers are stiff in his gauntlets, but he keeps heaving. A pair of knees come into his peripheral view, and a hand lay over the small of his back – he doesn't feel the warmth it offers, just a consolation pressure that the mechanical device conveys to his body.

"Steve, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry – I swear to God –"

What does it say about them when all Steve does is to swipe his hand over his face, and look away in disbelief?


End file.
